


Guns N' Roses

by Nellblazer



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Jealousy, Overstimulation, Power Play, Romance, Roses, Seduction, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellblazer/pseuds/Nellblazer
Summary: Gun running is rarely so elegant but when Frenchie meets you, the boss of the operation, he’s determined to show you a romantic approach can put a smile on your face.Commission for @whatafuckinnerd . I hope this helps your Frenchie fixation <3*Please do not replicate my work anywhere else without my express permission*
Relationships: Frenchie/Reader, The Frenchman/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Guns N' Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Power play, jealousy, gun play, smut
> 
> (Possible proof reading and French grammar errors. I’ve not studied it since I was 16)

Another day, another gun deal.

Frenchie followed his associates into the grimy apartment block with a practised confidence so as not to draw attention to himself. He made a show of hefting the sports bag on his back like it was heavy, all a great act should anyone be looking his way.

Once inside and in the elevator that smelled like marijuana and the faint scent of alcohol, they reached the apartment and knocked in the way they’d been told how.

The apartment was much nicer than the outside of the building, no doubt paid for with the cash from weapons smuggling and drug dealing. Frenchie could actually call it pretty homely.

“Give me the bag,” Jackson, his tertiary contact, clicks his fingers and points to the table.

Frenchie was used to this level of rudeness by now but he still tsked all the same through his teeth. Manners cost nothing.

“Hey, sweetheart, they’re here,” Jackson turns and calls over his shoulder, emphasising the scar from his neck to his cheek where he’d been glassed five months ago.

“I’m not your damn sweetheart,” a voice says with razor sharp venom before you come into view, carrying a slew of rifles.

Frenchie didn’t think he’d ever seen a complete leather suit on a person before and he was awestruck at how commanding it made you. Jackson’s authority in the room seemed to fade into the background and it wasn’t until your eyes met his that he realised he was openly goggling at you.

“Is that comfortable?” Jay asks on his left, pointing to your attire “Gotta be pretty hot to walk around in like that.”

“Very comfortable,” you dump the rifles down on the table. “You sure you can get these across county lines? I don’t like to have fuck ups.”

“You don’t….I thought Jackson was in charge,” Jay’s bewildered.

“Only when I let him be,” you wink and Frenchie swears it’s directed at him.

He gives a smile and you tip your head just a fraction towards him before going to fetch more guns. He’s not ashamed to say watching you leave was just as fun as watching you enter.

“So these need to be done by tonight. Think you’re up to it?” Jackson wrests the conversation back.

“Of course we are,” Frenchie grins. “You know us. We’re not amateurs.”

“Good. Half payment now, half payment on completion.”

You come back with the RPG that gives Jay cause to shuffle nervously. Transporting things like that were always fraught with danger.

“Anxious?” you catch Jay’s movements.

“ _Non, m_ _a chérie._ He’s just excited for a payday,” Frenchie cuts in, eager to get you to look at him again. “We’re used to moving explosives.”

“Are you now?” you cock up an eyebrow. “Maybe you can take some C4 over the county line too. You’re supposed to be the best, right?”

“ _Ç'est ça,_ ” he does a flourish. “Anything you want, _mon ange_ , we can do.”

“I like a man that can get things done,” you smirk before moving to the bureau in the room and pulling out a small bag. “I suppose you’ll want some hazard pay for this?”

“Not cash, no.”

“Oh?” you look marginally more interested, one hand resting on your hip.

“We do this, I want a kiss from those lips,” Frenchie puts it all out there, hoping he’s endearing enough for you to want to bite.

He expected you to blink or even flat out say no but you just came up close, stroked one finger down his cheek and said, “Deal.”

“Hey!” Jackson frowns.

“What?” you shrug. “A kiss or an extra grand? It’s just good business.”

“It’ll be more pleasure than business with me,” Frenchie winks before packing away the weapons.

“We’ll see,” you sit in the armchair at the back of the room.

You make it look like a throne with the way you sit. Frenchie had never been more enamoured on a first meeting as he was now.

He’d be getting that kiss alright.

It took a long while and some dodging of cops but he and Jay managed to do the drop off without too much hassle.

On the way back, Frenchie was thinking about whether he could be mischievous and make it a long kiss or if you’d just do a perfunctory peck. He got the impression you had a thing with Jackson going on again currently so he might be pushing the limits of how forward he could be but what he would dearly give to be able to spend some alone time with you.

“Are you thinking about her again?” Jay nudges him in the side. “I’ve been trying to talk to you.”

“Sorry, _mon ami_. She’s just… _incroyable_ ,” he leans back in the seat. “She just has such a presence, you know?”

“You just like the leather.”

“Well it helps,” he laughs.

“She’s not your girl, Frenchie, she’s Jackson’s.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“She is.”

“No, I refuse to accept that.”

“Dude, c'mon. She’s not going to be with you.”

“A man has to try with someone as beautiful as that,” Frenchie shrugs with a smile. “I have a feeling she likes playing hard to get anyway. I can see in her eyes she likes the chase.”

“You’re messed up, man.”

“Just because you don’t like being romantic, _mon rayon de soleil._ ”

“Your funeral then.”

They reached the apartment block again and Frenchie’s heart beat faster as he entered, looking around for you expectantly. Jackson was there counting money out and there was a distinct glare in his eyes when they came in.

“All done,” Jay announces.

“Your cut is on the table,” Jackson nods. “As for you, Frenchie. She’s in the back. Let me just say it’s the last time this will happen.”

“If you say so,” Frenchie gives him a cheery wave before going through to the back rooms.

Another suit, softer this time and with a sheer shirt that did little to disguise the lingerie underneath. You turned and the corner of your mouth turned into a half smile.

“Well done. That was a lot of explosives I gave you.”

“I told you I would do it. Did you doubt me?” he approaches.

“Considering you’re very driven to kiss me, no. Come on then, lover boy,” you beckon him over.

He loves the challenge in your eyes, the little power struggle and he takes you by the waist with one arm and softly caresses your cheek with the other. If this was going to be his sole shot, he was going to give it his all.

“Here’s to being the luckiest bastard in the world right now,” he says gently before capturing your lips in a kiss.

He felt the press of you against him, the way you moulded against his body as the kiss deepened. It got him to the point where he would’ve done something more if his best friend and your on again/off again lover weren’t next door.

“I do hope you’ll call for us again,” Frenchie smiles as you break off.

“With rates like yours, I’ll be saving money,” you joke. “I might see you again soon.”

“I look forward to it.”

You’re not stepping away but you’re not making a move either. You’re making a power play, seeing what he does. Frenchie doesn’t overstep though, he knows when to leave a person wanting so he steps backwards, blows a kiss and collects Jay on the way out.

All night long he dreams of that kiss, even when he has Cherie and Jay curled into him on the bed. It drives him mad well into the early hours of the morning.

You didn’t call for him, neither did Jackson.

Frenchie just wasn’t going to show up at the apartment without an invitation so he busied himself with others things. You were always at the back of his mind though.

Cherie had just come back from drinks with her other friends in a bar and it wasn’t until she started describing the owner of the club that his ears perked up and he spun around. That sounded like a description of you.

“Is she still there?” he asks. “The club is still open?”

“Yes, I think so?” Cherie looks puzzled.

Frenchie grabs his jacket then and there before racing out, leaving Cherie bewildered behind him. This was the perfect excuse though. A way to talk to you without business being in the way. It was a little rash but he just wanted one more chance to romance you.

On the way over, he stopped by the florists to get a rose. Cheesy as it was, no one could accuse him of not making an effort here.

When he got to the club, he searched high and low but couldn’t see any sign of you. He was beginning to look suspicious, to attract the attention of the doormen but he wouldn’t give up. Eventually he had to buy a drink just so he’d blend in but he kept looking, hoping to catch a glimpse.

A hand slid over his shoulder and you appeared to his right, hair slicked back away from your face, a blazer with nothing underneath it and latex leggings. His heart skipped a beat.

“They tell me you’ve been wandering around aimlessly in my club,” you order a drink. “I thought I’d save you the shame of being thrown out by Xander over there. He’s a bit overzealous when it comes to security.”

“Very much appreciated, _mon ange_ ,” Frenchie toasts to you. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I gathered. Follow me. This is too noisy for a conversation.”

And you took him into an office, sitting on your desk and swirling your drink.

“So you found out where I usually am. Persistent, aren’t you?” you say with mirth.

“I like to think of it as determined,” Frenchie holds out the rose. “For you.”

“Well,” you take the stalk, tracing it lightly. “It’s been a long time since someone gave me flowers.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t be with a man who doesn’t want to treat his _fille_ like she’s a princess then.”

“And that’s how you’d treat me?” the rose is at your lips, petals brushing against them softly.

“I’d treat you any way you’d ask me to.”

“ _Any_ way?”

The sexual tension is thickening and he walks up to you but your leg comes up, the tip of your shoe pressed into his chest stopping his progress. He takes your leg lightly and begins planting gentle little kisses along the calf, punctuating his next words.

“Any.Way.You.Desire.”

He was just about to make his way to your thigh when there’s a knock at the door. Silently he’s cursing the interruption.

You push him lightly with your foot, “That’s good to know.”

You walk past him to open the door and Jackson walks in, freezing when he sees Frenchie. For a second, he thinks a fight might break out.

“What’s _he_ doing here?” Jackson asks.

“Business,” you answer succinctly. “I prefer being in a nicer environment sometimes. Frenchie, I’ll see you again sometime.”

The dismissal was clear but Frenchie accepted it. He felt like if Jackson hadn’t of interrupted, you would’ve allowed him to keep seducing you.

Jackson crossed quickly to you, gathering you in a rough kiss before getting between your legs as you’d gone back to sit on the desk. He definitely was a jealous man from the way he was acting.

Just before Frenchie left though, he locked eyes with you over Jackson’s shoulder and the lust was just blazing there. You pursed your lips in a little kiss to him, never breaking eye contact and Frenchie just knew you were enjoying teasing him then.

He leaves but he leaves in high spirits. You were difficult to win over but he was getting there.

Frenchie got a call from you a week later about moving some submachine guns and he decided he was going to step up his game.

He used some of his running cash to get chocolates, expensive ones. You owned a club after all, buying wine seemed a little moot as a present.

He concealed them in his backpack as he went, alone this time, to the apartment and he was relieved that Jackson was nowhere in sight. It was a nice change to have you open the door.

“A lady needs spoiling,” he produces the box and watches your face light up.

“You’re making a very compelling case to keep calling you,” you let him in, taking the chocolates and sitting down in that armchair. “The guns are on the table. Usual drop off point.”

He starts stuffing them into his sports bag but stops when he watches you take the lid off the box, select one chocolate and bite into it before licking out the flavoured centre. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Of course you knew exactly what you were doing to him and you didn’t even care about being subtle. The wicked glint in your eye was enough to give that away.

“ _Mon amour_ , you _insist_ on tormenting me,” he breathes.

“I’m just enjoying your present,” you say innocently enough before rising from the armchair and coming around to place a hand on his chest. “You _do_ want me to enjoy myself, don’t you?”

“I could do so many things to you that you’ll enjoy, trust me,” his hands come to your hips. “I’m very good at pleasing.”

You had one chocolate in your fingers and you ran it along his bottom lip before his tongue came to catch it from your grip.

“I can see how you would be with a tongue like that,” you eye his face.

“Let me show you.”

You lean in, almost kissing him again before whispering, “You have a job to do, Frenchie. There’s a time constraint. Thank you for my present though.”

“Then I’ll see you when I return.”

“I’ll text you my location when you’re done.”

“Not here?”

“Not here. Jackson’s place is getting…old news.”

“Why not wait for me at my place?” he chances a smirk. “This will only be quick and then….things won’t be so quick.”

“Such promises. I hope you can deliver them,” your fingers run over his lips again. “Text me when _you’re_ back then.”

“Oh I will. Be assured of that.”

As he was going out into the corridor, Jackson was coming in and there was rage on his face at seeing Frenchie and just before he was about to get in the lift, he heard a commotion behind him and turned around immediately.

He burst into the apartment to see Jackson on his knees, a gun pointed to his head and you looking completely unfazed.

“Are you alright?!” Frenchie asks.

“I’m fine. I’m just reminding Jackson that I’m not his girl and he has no right to act out like this,” you smile casually.

“You wouldn’t really shoot me, would you?!” Jackson’s shaking on the floor.

“Wouldn’t I? I don’t like being told what I can and can’t do. Why don’t you disappear for the night? Our arrangement is done.”

Jackson bolts out of the door and runs off while Frenchie stares in amazement as you put the shotgun over your shoulder. As wrong as it was, the sight really turned him on.

“Shouldn’t you be running screaming by now?” you watch him.

“No. You think I’ve never done gunplay before, _ma chérie_? If anything it makes me want to stay more.”

That’s the first time he’s seen surprise on your face.

“Well you have somewhere to be so get to it. Don’t forget my text later.”

“You know I won’t,” Frenchie grins as you stow the shotgun away and play with the collar of your shirt.

And he didn’t.

Cherie and Jay were out for the night and he straightened up his place as best as he could.

He sent the text to you and waited for you to drop by his apartment and when he finally heard the knock, he practically sprang up from the bed to go answer it.

You were waiting there with champagne, looking much too classy to be in a place like this but you swept in like you’d lived here for years and uncorked the bottle.

“To the only man who gets shit done in my business,” you toast before taking a swig directly from the bottle and passing it to him.

He takes a long pull too before setting it down. No interruptions this time, just you and him.

“To the man who’s going to continue to put a smile on your face,” he winks.

“Is that so?”

“Most definitely. Do you know how, _mon amour_? By finally giving you what you want.”

“And what do I want?”

He grabs you by the waist, pushing you to the wall and just before he dives on you, he feels the press of a pistol against his chin. He knows you won’t use it though.

“You want me. You want me to take you, right here and now. You want to lose control for just a little bit to a man that won’t try to take what you’ve built. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” the word comes out breathy and the pistol is forgotten on the floor as he kisses you with such hunger that you make this adorable little whimper.

“Let me please you, _ma chérie._ Let me show you how a man should love you.”

You melted into him, allowing him to strip your clothing before he picks you up in his arms and places you gently on the bed. He worships your body, kissing all of it that he can get his lips on and feels you arch into his touch.

He takes his time with you, teases you, tongue reaching out to lathe at your burning skin and by the time he’s nestled between your legs, you’re practically pushing his head down, fraught with impatience. He can’t help but chuckle to himself at that.

“Oh no no no,” he tuts. “Not that quickly. This is not a race to the finish. This is art. Art takes time.”

And so he kisses and nips at the soft skin of your inner thighs, drowning in the soft little moans you were making as the anticipation built. The ache in his groin was unbearable but this may be the one and only time this happens. He couldn’t rush it.

Finally he lingered before diving upon you and he revelled in watching your eyes flutter closed and your lips part into an ‘oh’, silent but loud all the same. He tasted you, desperately hungry for more as your legs caged his face, keeping him there.

He whispered all sorts of things to you between the swirls of his tongue in his first language, telling you how good you tasted, how beautiful you were, how he’d been dreaming of this moment.

“Don’t stop!” you cry out, the edge of urgency in your voice.

So he didn’t. He threw you over the edge as you writhed and twitched, letting yourself go truly. It was graceful to watch as you slowly came down from the high, panting hard.

“And that is your first one,” Frenchie smiles.

“First? You mean-”

“-Do I look like a once and done kind of effort guy, _mon amour_? I’m not going to stop until I have you begging me to, until you plead with me to fuck you.”

He set to work again, fingers trailing over you as he pushed you towards another orgasm. The noises you were making were already growing into a crescendo, overstimulated from the last time and he had you screaming for him, twice, thrice, four times until the bed was soaked beneath you and tears were escaping the corners of your eyes.

“No more, please. I can’t take any more,” your voice is ragged with pleasure. “I need you, Frenchie.”

“I know you do. Let me take care of you.”

He strips himself bare before coming up to kiss you languidly. Then he pins your wrists above your head.

“You want to lose control, I’ll take it from you,” he bites at your lower lip. “But if you want it back, all you have to do is say, understand?”

“Yes.”

He drives himself home into you, relishing the tightness, relishing that your hips buck just a little to push him in further. It’s a delirious feeling to know how badly you want him.

That’s why he takes it slow, so painfully slow grinding against you that he can see the pleading look in your eyes, even if your mouth won’t say the words. Frenchie won’t let up though as your legs come to wrap around his back.

“Did you need something, _ma chérie?_ ” he laughs.

“Stop teasing!”

“But I told you I was going to show you how a man should love you. Don’t you want that or do you just want to be _fucked_?” He punctuates the last word with a hard thrust that has you gasping. “Because I can do either.”

You struggle your arms out of his grip before rolling him onto his back. He lets you get comfortable, ceding control back as you rock on him, hands pressed on his chest for leverage.

“That’s it, _mon amour_ , you do what you want with me,” he encourages.

Frenchie’s hands come to your thighs, helping you ride him and he gets such a view watching your body work. This was so much better than he ever could imagine.

“ _Magnifique_ ,” he praises, half a growl, half a groan.

“You gonna cum for me soon?” you ask, grinding so heavily that Frenchie’s head tips back with the sheer pleasure of it.

“Is that what you want? You want me to cum in you? Fill you up? You want to feel me pulse in you?”

“Yes,” you’re moving faster now.

“Then I’ll give you what you want. You know I always will,” he sits up, one arm around your waist and one still on your thighs as he fucks you hard in time with your thrusts.

He cums with a shout of your name, clutching you tightly to him as he nestles himself in your chest, trying to regain his breath.

“You are something, Frenchie,” you trail your fingers across his back.

“I hope that means this will not be the last time,” he places a kiss to your sternum before looking up. “I would be forever sad if it was.”

“Oh I might be back for more,” you smile.

The door to the apartment opens and Cherie and Jay walk in to find you on top of Frenchie and both naked. They blink for a moment before busying themselves with other things.

“I thought they’d be out longer, _pardonnez moi_ ,” Frenchie pulls a face.

“I’d best get back anyway,” you climb off, making no effort to cover yourself, even with two new people around. “Things fall apart if I’m away too long.”

You dress before leaning down and giving Frenchie a soft kiss.

“I have your number,” you wink before gathering the pistol and leaving the apartment.

“Holy shit, man,” Jay looks dumbfounded. “I didn’t think that would ever happen.”

“I told you,” Frenchie shrugs. “Romantic is the way to go. Everybody likes to be romanced.”

“Well done you,” Cherie just laughs.

“ _Merci_. I hope you brought me back some food. She worked up quite an appetite in me.”

“Oh I bet she did,” Jay shakes his head. “You hound dog.”

Frenchie just smiles, stretching out on the bed and languishing in the afterglow. Even if this only happened once, he’d treasure the memory.

He was surprised to get a text from you two days later telling you to come to the club.

The doormen were a lot nicer this time around, escorting him to the office where you were waiting, sat on the desk in that regal way you always did.

His eyes fell upon something that was new behind you, a rose dipped in resin and displayed in a little perspex box.

“Is that the same one I gave you?” he points and you look over your shoulder.

“It might be,” you answer coyly. “I told you I don’t get flowers much. I wanted to preserve that one.”

“ _Ma chérie,_ if you’ll have me, I’ll buy you roses every time I see you. You know that’s not false coming from me.”

“Oh I know. You’ve been the most tenacious man I’ve ever met,” you smile. “And why did you think I called you down here? Business? No, no tonight it’s pleasure. Lock the door.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.


End file.
